


The Cinderella Contract

by tevlek



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Cinderella AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevlek/pseuds/tevlek
Summary: Marianne wanted nothing more than to stay home while her father and sister head out to the Spring Ball but her night-in turns into glittering chaos when an unconventional fairy godmother appears before her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know I could have done SO MUCH with this story but this was the result of a bunch of brain farts rolled into one story. Things are going to be a bit rushed in some scenes because this was written on and off over the year but I hope that some of you will still enjoy it.  
> (I rated it for Marianne's language.)

Le Printemps Fête.

Giving something a French title that may not even be grammatically accurate doesn’t make it sound anymore desirable to go to than it did when it was simply called “The Spring Ball” a year ago. Marianne knew all about the Spring Ball, or whatever the hell they were calling it now to try and give it some—insert Jazz hands here—pizzazz. She never saw a day of it but she did know that many a sappy soul desired to attend it every year thanks to Cinderella’s pioneering efforts to give a girl high expectations for a party. Needless to say, finding a man at a party hardly sounds like a rock solid base for a relationship. A theory she tried to relay to Dawn but her sister was so wrapped up in her own teenage dream that there was no saving her.

Giving Dawn up for a lost cause, Marianne counted her blessings that she would be working the day of the party and her boss was a real stickler for sticking to your shifts. No problem, Marianne would work at the restaurant and take care of the late night rushes from people escaping the party after they realized it was too formal and there wasn’t enough to eat or drink. Once reality sets in, no one would think twice about stopping by Hank’s for a good, old fashioned burger and fries decked out in uncomfortable evening wear. Marianne would be there, ready with the napkins.

Working her ass off on a Saturday night was not unusual after she picked up her part-time job at Hank’s. She willingly signed her life away after the last attempt at a social life she tried to attempt involving a man and his love affair with a mirror. Very few people understood why she broke it off with Roland and then did a one-eighty in personality that turned her into a grouchy workaholic and no longer one of Daddy’s Little Princesses. Mayhaps it was just one of those “wake-up calls” a person got just before their life turned to possible shit? Yeah, this was exactly like that.

So what was wrong with wanting to work your shift and make some extra tip money? Nothing. Nothing was wrong with it! Marianne would have been happy wiping tables and making small talk with hungry people while balancing a full meal plus beverage refills on her trusty tray. Unfortunately, some cosmic force felt that a night off was in store for “poor” Marianne and her night shift turned into a night off courtesy of a vague phone call from her boss. She barely managed to hang up when Dawn was on her like flies on a garbage can, tugging and pulling at her while all her words blended together in a verbal assault on Marianne’s senses. Her head was swimming by the time she translated Dawn’s crazy into something that made sense.

She wanted her to go to Le Printemps Fête with her.

Oh. Hell. No.

Having the night off paved the way for movie marathons or reading a book. Ice cream on the living room floor while playing Star Wars: Pod Racers on the N64 for old time’s sake. Hell, she could have gone through the house completely naked while dancing to Uma Thurman on the stereo and called it a night! Anything was better than going to a pompous dance and for some reason it was hard to get Dawn to understand that. So, Marianne came up with the best excuse she could think of to finally knock that hopeful gaze off of Dawn’s face.

“I don’t have anything to wear to it, Dawn.” She said with exaggerated remorse while holding her sister’s bare shoulders.

Dawn was already dressed up and ready to go break a few hearts—mainly her best friend-zoned pal, Sunny’s. She smelled of peonies, one of their favorite flowers and even her dress looked like it had been made from the petals of said flowers, pale pink with glittering tips on the scalloped hems. Cute, but definitely not something Marianne would have chosen for herself. Let Dawn rock the pink, she was perfectly fine in her dragon-print sleep pants and One Punch Man tank top that was rapidly turning into a gray crop-top thanks to how often she wore/washed it.

“But…maybe there’s a store still open?” Dawn asked hopefully but Marianne shook her head, doom and gloom weighing the slow jostle.

“I’m sorry but you’re just going to have to go have fun without me.” She said with a solemn smile before Dawn nearly burst into tears, throwing her arms around her and Marianne patted her back while fighting the grin over her sister’s shoulder.

Nailed it.

Holding Dawn at arm’s length again, she made sure her face was schooled into the picture of sadness before she pecked a kiss upon her forehead, careful to avoid the glitter shadow that Dawn had applied on her lids. She stepped back and nodded to their father, who escorted Dawn out the door. She waited patiently in the foyer, listening hard for the car doors and the eventual purr of the engine when they finally made their way out of the driveway. One glance at the headlights briefly illuminating the windows in the next room confirmed their departure and Marianne’s façade crumbled like old mortar.

Grinning from ear to ear, she practically moon-walked out of the foyer and into the parlor. She dance-walked through the house to a tune she made up as she went along, humming the entire way through the parlor and living room and cutting through the short hall into the kitchen where she planned to raid the fridge for starters. Dad always kept the fridge stocked with plenty but always gave her disapproving looks if she tried to pig out on certain items in his presence. No chance of that now though!

Marianne was buried head first in the refrigerator, fingers tapping over the items in her line of sight to try and concoct her snack choices when she first heard the noise. It was soft, so quiet she almost thought it was the hum of the fridge’s motor. She leaned back out of it and shut the door, cocking an ear to the sound with a furrowed brow. The humming persisted but it wasn’t the fridge. She drummed her fingers on the handle, debating on if it was a sound worthy of investigation.

The decision was made for her when she noticed something flicker out of the corner of her eye. It drew her gaze to the hanging lights over the kitchen’s island when something flew underneath them, casting a tiny shadow over the countertop then vanished out of sight. The humming stopped as well and Marianne puzzled at the oddity. It could have been a fly that got into the house? A house fly made sense but it made her hope she wouldn’t be stalked by the bug for the rest of the night. She wanted to eat the food, not guard it after all.

With a shrug, she started to turn back to the fridge when a burst of pink glitter blew up from the floor beside the kitchen island. The explosion of glitter startled her into jumping and slamming backwards into the fridge, plastering herself to the stainless steel door while a few magnets clattered to the floor from her contact. The shock was knocked askew when she saw a towering creature standing in the middle of her kitchen before it doubled over in a series of lung-pulverizing coughs.

The…thing…choked and spluttered on the same glitter smoke that it had produced in its appearance before irritably waving away the traces of the haze until the air finally cleared. Marianne cringed at the sight of the creature before her and almost wished it was consumed by the smoke again to spare her its odd appearance. Bone thin, creepy thin with not a morsel of fat from head to toe, no clothing what-so-ever but it looked like it was spared the embarrassment of nudity with a natural-grown armor. Iridescent wings shivered down its back before they stilled and it made another irritable growl, tugging at one of them and seeing that the pink glitter had stuck to the membrane, highlighting the vein work and speckling the already glossy surface in between.

“Hell,” it rasped with a sour expression that wrinkled an extremely pointy nose before releasing its wing and reaching under a flap in the armor plating his shoulders. It was a ‘he’, right? Marianne’s initial fear turned to blatant confusion when established he held an index car between two fingers, flipping it over and sneering at the contents.

“Uh…” she slowly eased off of the refrigerator door.

He held up a long finger, silently telling her to wait before clearing his throat. “Good evening—” he glanced up at her then back at the card. “Young lady. I am your--ach—Fairy Bog-Mother…here to serve all of your magical, maternal needs.”

Fairy Bog-Mother looked like he was going to gag the longer he read the introduction and Marianne honestly didn’t blame him. Whoever wrote that card sounded like Giselle had escaped from Enchanted and came back for revenge on the real world. His little glance up at her before calling her “young lady” left her on the cusp of offended but when she looked down at herself she guessed she didn’t look like your typical image of a woman. Tight tank-top with slight but still obvious breast swellage in the torso must have been the deciding factor in her gender.

“What can I do to make your night more magical?” He sighed, flicking the card away and it vanished in a puff of more pink smoke that he fanned away from his face with another grimace before he folded his arms.

“Uh...” not the most intelligent answer, considering she used it already, but it was all she had. “How about this—What the hell is going on?”

Fairy Bog-Mother sighed, cracking his neck before bracing a hand on the counter and leaning into the polished marble.

“I’m supposed to send you to the party tonight.” He stated. “Someone wished you would go; my boss heard it, so now I’m here to make that happen.”

Something about the way he said “boss” made it plain as day that he held no respect for his apparent employer. Did fairies have bosses? Was that thing even a fairy to begin with? He had wings, which must have meant there was some kind of fairy gene in the hodge-podge of genetics that created him.

_Not our number one priority here, Marianne._

“Hold on—I don’t want to go to the party.” Marianne held up her hands as if her outward palms would be enough to stay off the help she didn’t want. “I just wanted to have a night in, without my dad or my sister to worry about, or anyone to complain if I turn the volume up too loud.”

“You don’t want to go?” he looked skeptical.

“No. I don’t.” she folded her arms and jutted her chin out. “I never did.”

He sneered at her before he pushed off the counter and approached her. The sudden closing in startled her out of her stance and she sidled away until she was on the other side of the island and he stopped in her previous spot, watching her with a quirked brow-piece. What the hell was his head made out of, anyway? She laid her hands on the counter, bracing herself for if he moved again and he sighed, a hand raising to his head and scratching at the leafy appendages growing there. Man, when someone thought of fairies this thing definitely didn’t come to mind!

“Well, too bad.” He waved his hand and a wand appeared from thin air. She gawked at the summoning of the magical device and how unsuited to its wielder it was. Apparently wands didn’t choose their masters like in Harry Potter because no glitter stick in its right mind would think it looked good in that gnarly hand. She blinked at the glass-like rod filled with swirling sparkles that seemed to bounce off of the narrow glass tubing like they had a mind of their own. The very tip of it spat out sparks like a fourth of July sparkler and she wondered how the flying embers didn’t singe his bark-like armor. “I can’t call it a night until you go to the party, dance with someone, and run away from him before midnight.”

“Oh God, you mean I’m Cinderella?” she groaned, clawing her fingers and clutching at her hair. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he nodded, impatiently tapping the wand on his palm while he waited for it to sink in. “It’s only eight right now so you have plenty of time to get the ball rolling.”

“Wait—can’t you just…poof off and come back at quarter till twelve, do the magic, then poof off right when it hits midnight?”

“It won’t count towards my quota if I don’t get enough hours in as well as complete the Cinderella Contract.” He shook his head, “Sorry, but you’re going to have to go to the party and deal with it.”

Marianne wanted to throw a tantrum like a three year old. She wanted to stomp her feet and scream but she held completely still. It was entirely possible that this wasn’t actually happening after all. She could have passed out and was laying head first in the open fridge, drooling on the leftover tuna casserole and have been dreaming this up all along! Yeah, that was sane, right? Dreaming of Cinderella scenarios and Fairy Godmothers—or Fairy Bog-Mothers in this case—because she was dwelling on thoughts of the party and how much she didn’t want to go? Sounded like her subconscious could make a nightmare out of that. A+ on creativity, imagination, she never would have come up with a creature like him on her own while awake.

“I know that look.” Fairy Bog-Mother stated, his tone irate while Marianne blinked away her hope and settled back into the harsh reality of her situation. “You’re not dreaming and you’re not on any drugs. I’ve had to walk through that explanation too many times to count since I started doing this and I don’t want to waste time going over everything again.”  


He aimed the wand at her and she paled at the sight of the sparkler glowing brighter. She ducked behind the island just as he shot off a spell and it took out the cabinets where Marianne had once been standing. Popping back up, she turned and stared at the glitter bomb that had went off, making a splatter pattern of silver, pink, pale blue, and purple on the polished white surface. Marianne barely managed to register the result when she saw him prepare to fire again and she dove out of range, rolling across the kitchen floor.

“I told you I’m not going to that stupid party!” she shouted, scrambling back onto her feet as he started to move around the island to get to her.

“And I say you are!” he snarled, wings flaring before he shot another spell at her, hitting the pots and pans cabinet, sending cookware flying and clanging all over the place. Marianne snatched up a frying pan and held it up as a shield while making a run for the exit.

Bog-Mother was on her tail in a heartbeat as she slipped on the Persian rug in the living room, sliding behind the couch just as he took another shot at her. It was the third of many more that sent Marianne running through the entire first floor of the home with a furious Bog-Mother at her heels. Eventually he lifted off the ground and actually proceeded to fly after her, cornering her in the foyer before she could raise the pan high enough to spare her the magic.

He aimed, fired and she felt it strike true.

Crying out in defeat, she looked down at herself and screamed when her clothes practically burst off of her, hands flying to conceal herself through the shimmering haze that surrounded her.

“I’m naked!” she yelped, huddling into a crouch.

“You’re not naked when there’s sparkles,” he scoffed with another eye-roll before landing heavily upon the floor, crossing his arms while Marianne glowered at him from where she tried to conceal herself. He may have had a point though because she couldn’t really make out any tid-bits of her own girly parts through the shimmering mist that swirled around her. It tickled over her skin and she heard crackling like Pop Rocks in her ears when the mist slowly settled and she looked down to see what kind of dress she had been saddled with.

“Well…at least it’s not pink.” She didn’t feel any better after the statement, glowering up at Bog with her hands slapping down at her thighs but unable to touch them thanks to the heavy skirt swallowing up her body from the hips down. The dress was a clusterfuck of flowers and glitter, sleeveless and blue beneath all of the florals. She wrinkled her nose at it. “Who the hell likes this?”

“Not me,” he held his hands up. “I don’t pick the dresses. I just supply them.”

“I look like I tripped through a Baroque painting and landed in a potpourri dish!” Marianne snapped, holding her hands out to show herself to him as if he hadn’t seen her already. “Can’t you fix it?”

“I can’t,” he held up the wand and swung it around in a little circle, “I’ve got a limited number of shots on this thing and thanks to your stubbornness, I’m down to three.”

“What the hell kind of Fairy Godmother are you?” Marianne moved to rake her hand through her hair again but found that it had been changed as well. “What the—how did my hair grow out?”

Marianne had put a lot of work into making sure her hair was chopped short. Since she lived half a lifetime of having long hair, a pixie cut was long overdue and she was damn proud of her ombre color choice giving her usual brown some oomph. Now, from what she could feel, it was like a solid helmet of hair that was stiff with hair spray that was never used and by touch it felt like it was in a kind of bun with more flowers thrown into the mix. Even though she wanted to know what happened to her own hair, she was left dreading what it actually looked like even more and ignored the urge to check the nearest reflective surface.

“My boss likes up-dos.” He contributed before heading for the door. “Don’t worry; it will go back to the way it was once it hits midnight. Come on, let’s get this over with.”  


“Yippee.” She deadpanned, snatching up what she could of the skirt and following him outside. “Is this the part where you turn our lawn gnome into carriage because I promise you there are no pumpkins.”

“I may be old but I’m not entirely out of connection with this century, thank you.” He sneered back at her while twisting the wand between his hands, peering around the utterly useless circle driveway before them. Marianne silently prayed he wouldn’t find anything to turn into her magical transportation for the night while looking down at her dress, picking at ruffles and checking out the sparkling bodice that tried to blind her when she leaned the wrong way.

“Three shots…” he murmured, striding onto the driveway and following it to the garage. Marianne pulled up armfuls of her skirts, still trying to follow him, all the while, hoping that nothing would inspire Fairy Bog-Mother to become a ride to the party. She waddled up behind him while he stood squared off with the garage door, the glossy white vinyl barring him off from venturing inside. The barrier reassured her and she sighed in relief.

“Looks like we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” She smirked, catching his eye and he frowned down at her.

Sticking the wand between a set of crooked teeth that looked like they needed an appointment at the dentist’s office and soon, Fairy Bog-Mother approached the garage door and crouched down before it, wriggling the long claws of his fingers under the rubber seal. With a grunt around the wand, he opened the two car garage door, throwing it up over his head as it rolled along its tracks with squealing wheels before the light snapped on, illuminating the garage before them. Marianne’s mouth fell open at the effortless gesture. Her father couldn’t open the door without using the remote control, the sucker looked cheap but it was heavy! It wasn’t supposed to be able to open manually for security’s sake and yet, there it went. He removed the wand from his mouth and strolled inside; checking the empty floor before scanning the walls until his head suddenly stopped and Marianne cringed. He had zeroed in on something.

“Oh hell…” Marianne’s hope deflated like a pin-pricked balloon when Bog approached the untouched workbench. Perched on a shelf above the work surface was a glass case bearing the one and only model car project her father had ever worked on before he became too busy to make another. A 1957 Chevy Bel-Air in baby blue. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Be happy it’s not a bicycle.” He stated, reaching up and plucking the glass off of the top and snatching the model car down from its display. “Your whining is wasting time.”

“That’s the idea.” Marianne snapped but followed him when he returned to the driveway, setting the car gingerly down upon the pavement. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it but I don’t want to go to this party!”

“Tough,” he dismissed her, stepping back a few paces before checking the distance. He took one more step back before shaking out his arms and readied the wand. With a flick, sparks shot at the car and Marianne tensed, hoping the heat wouldn’t melt the delicate plastic. The little Chevy remained still on the ground as Bog folded his arms expectantly, watching it with a tilt of his head. She started to wonder if it didn’t work, tilting her head to the side as well when the car hopped on its plastic tires. It then rocked from side to side and bucked its back end, the front suddenly enlargening while the car continued to jump and lurch. She staggered back, nearly tripping on the dress when Bog caught her under the arms and hurried her out of the way with a little buzzing hover that lifted her completely off the ground only to land a few feet further away from the dancing car.

The Chevy came to a sudden stop, rocking on its shocks as the magic settled and a full-size Bel-Air settled in front of them, pristine and glossy with a rumbling engine that revved expectantly, the lights popping to life. Bog released her and moved away while Marianne stared at the car. She slowly approached it and touched at the flawless paint with cautious fingers. The engine purred at the contact before Marianne flinched back and glanced back at Fairy Bog-Mother.

“Okay, I’ll admit it, I like the car.” She turned back to it and laid a fond hand over the hood, feeling how it vibrated under her touch.

“Glad you approve,” he stated, moving around her and opening up the back door. “Get in. We’re already past nine o’clock.”

Marianne didn’t move, only glared at him.

“If you don’t get in, I’m going to put you in there myself.” He warned.

Marianne felt her mouth dry up a little bit but didn’t move. “You wouldn’t dare.”

\------------

Oh, he dared.

That was how Marianne ended up in the back seat of the Chevy, bewitched seatbelt holding her firmly in place while she swatted and punched at her glittering skirt to get it out of her face the entire drive to the party. The damn dress might have been magic but the simple law of physics still applied when it came to trying to stuff a lot of something into a small space. Bog had been oblivious to the fabric storm in the back because he was sitting pretty in the passenger’s seat, a cocky elbow braced partially out the open window and idly turning the knob on a radio that shouldn’t have worked.

After the ride to the venue, Bog climbed out first and observed the hotel from the valet parking, the men in red uniforms darting back and forth to drive cars to parking and somehow completely oblivious to his presence when he opened up the back door and the seat belt finally released her. He offered her and hand and she slapped her palm into it, making sure to wipe glitter on his gray skin before he proceeded to yank her out of the back. She staggered into him, stopping herself from knocking into his armor by grasping his shoulders and pricking herself on the rough texture before she recoiled and nearly fell back into the car again.

“Easy now,” he snagged her wrist and pulled her steady. “Those shoes are delicate.”

“Yeah, another stellar choice in practicality, Bog-Mother.” She scoffed, bending over and snatching up the hem of the skirt, pulling it thigh high and yet her foot barely peeked through when she jutted her leg forward. The shoes had been a mystery until she was sitting in the back of the car and caught a peek of it past the tulle petticoat and floral dress. Apparently her glass slipper of choice was made of spun glass, spider-silk thin threads of glass woven into the shapes of pumps, the delicate fibers creating webbing that creeped up her heel and cradled against her ankle to steady her against the thin heel. They were kick-ass shoes, sure, but she would have preferred any other material than glass, especially a glass that looked as fragile as this stuff.

“Ah—those are my fault.” He muttered; swiping at her hold on the skirts and making them fall back into place on the ground. “It’s like that with any Fairy Godmother in this business. The shoes reflect their tastes.”

“How do you like glass slippers?”

“I like the spun glass. It looks like spider silk,” he averted his eyes. “It…reminds me of home.”

“Home?”

He shook his head, lowering his hand from where it had been worrying the back of his neck.

“Forget it. More importantly, it’s time you get yourself in there and to make sure you don’t try to get out of the contract, I’m going to be coming along with you until every task it met.”

Marianne looked him up and down, “Yeah, hate to point this out but…you’re kind of going to stick out. A lot.”

He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. His body suddenly disappeared with a pop and a bit of glitter fizzled from mid air, settling into the red carpet leading the way up to the entrance. Marianne looked at the car as the doors shut and the Chevy proceeded to pull away to park itself without a valet’s help and she silently mourned the loss of her getaway vehicle. Her pout was startled back off her face when a bug suddenly flew into her face and she immediately tried to swat at it.

“Hey, it’s me!” Bog’s voice snapped as the bug avoided her hand. “I just shifted so that no one would see me!”

“Fairy Bog-Mother?” she blinked at the tiny insect, squinting at it and realizing it was indeed him. He looked small enough to fit in the flowers decorating the dress and no one would have been the wiser to his presence. “Wow, you’re pocket-size!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed. “Get inside!”

She groaned.

“Get in there!” he shouted back at her and she recoiled from the volume of his tiny voice before she threw her hands up in the air and turned towards the party, her shoulders slumping when she spotted the doors ahead.

Bog-Mother ducked out of sight amidst the flowers of her skirt and Marianne squared her shoulders, striding past the stragglers where the hotel venue locations were lined up by polished walnut-colored doors. Only one pair was open, the Primrose Ballroom, according to the golden lettering above the doorway. She paused just in front of the entrance, glancing inside at the crowd of people filling what must have been one of the larger rooms offered by the hotel, judging by the sheer size of it. The height of the ceiling and breadth of the room were downplayed by the low lighting and hanging chandeliers, golden lights illuminated short strips on the walls and bodies filled the space with just enough room to squeeze by without stepping on a stranger’s feet.

Marianne took a breath, clenching her fists at her sides and proceeded into the room, the brightness of the outer hall suddenly shifting to dim, making her squint at the dark shapes around her. She barely made it a few paces before someone stepped on the back of her dress, hitching her step and making her stagger on her heels. Throwing out her hands, she steadied herself on an innocent bystander, offering a muttered apology of which its authenticity was lost in the sourness of her disposition. The man flinched away from her irritable expression and excused himself, making way for Marianne to keep on trekking.

Fan-Fucking-tastic.

Forced to go to a party she wanted nothing to do with, showing up over-dressed to the max and now she couldn’t even smile long enough to catch a partner to get this Cinderella Contract going. She couldn’t even find Dawn in this chaos for a little sisterly comfort to ease her glitter pain. And to top it all off, Bog-Mother was no help at all! He offered no guidance or little pearls of wisdom. It was just her and the over-the-top dress against a room full of tuxedos and slender sheath dresses. Whoever was in charge of the fashion design in Bog-Mother’s line of work needed to choke on one of their own fake flowers. No one wore stuff like this to a real party! Well, maybe Dawn would have but that wasn’t the point. Fact is, the dress was too big, too gaudy, and she hated it.

As much as she didn’t want to tempt karma, she couldn’t help but think: _This can’t get any worse._

“Marianne?”

_Fuck you, karma, you vindictive bitch!_

Marianne slowly turned on her heel and found herself face to face with Roland Greene. Cheating pig-face son-of-a-bitch man-child. Hold up—man. A single man. A single man that would be willing to dance with her, man. Ladies and Gentlemen, Marianne had found her way out of the Cinderella Contract and it was in the form of Roland the Asshat!

_Brilliant job, karma._

At least it was a way out of this, even if he was the reason she didn’t want to be here in the first place.

“Roland,” she folded her arms, trying to muster a smile but it probably looked more like a tic in her cheek than anything. “So, you made it to the Spring Ball this year. Hustle a woman to bring you as a date?”

“Now don’t be like that, darlin’.” He held his hands up to stay off her icy words. “I was just comin’ over to see you. You know? Just to say ‘hi’.”

“Hi.” She deadpanned.

“Your father invited me to come along to help keep an eye on Miss Dawn.” His hand rose to his hair, giving his bangs a little curl that seemed more of a habit than on purpose before but now she was totally aware that he did it intentionally. “He didn’t tell me you were coming along as well.”

“It was a last minute decision.” Marianne wished she knew where Bog-Mother was in this menace of a dress so she could flick him in that moment. Unfortunately, the bug man was well hidden.

Roland’s eyes scanned over her from top to bottom, leaving Marianne rolling her eyes the longer he ogled her but she kept her irritation contained. This was her chance. One dance and she could tell the CC to shove it and head home. That hope alone was enough to keep her standing before Roland, submitting herself to his inspection and hoping he would keep the comments to a minimum and spare her an eye twitch in the effort to contain her sanity.

“You certainly got yourself awfully prettified for this dance.” He complimented, indicating the dress and then her hair. “It suits you.”

Marianne inwardly scoffed at the compliment. Of course he would like it. He wants his women to be over the top in looks and style like a prancing show pony but in the end, that pony was still on a rope. Good thing she put an end to that lifestyle before she inherited the pitiful title of “Trophy Wife”.

“Well, we’re at a party, aren’t we?” Marianne held out her arms in a little shrug, “Feel like dancing?”

That has to be the most un-romantic invitation I’ve ever heard. Fairy Bog-Mother’s voice sighed near her ear and she flinched at the sudden presence of it, twisting to look for him but the reluctant guardian seemed to still be hidden out of sight.

“Why, I thought you’d never ask, baby cakes.” Roland said sweetly with a winning smile as he held out his arm to her. Marianne stiffly took it, kicking a few ruffles out of her way as she turned and joined him on the dance floor.

There was nothing magical about the moment Roland assumed the typical dancing position with her, the two of them shuffling to the some-what upbeat rhythm of the orchestra. Roland led her through familiar steps they had memorized since Mrs. Henson’s dance class back when they were kids. It was another little tid-bit from childhood that threw her and Greene together by their parents in hopes the two would eventually fall for one another. Unfortunately, it worked but Marianne eventually saw the light and followed it straight to the exit. Well, she did until this moment when she blatantly used the man to get herself out of the ridiculousness that this night had become.

They danced to the music, swaying here, spinning there; all the while Roland tried to turn on the charm. He complimented her over and over, showering empty praises over her that would have once made her swoon. She tried to grin a bear it but every touch and little caress he tried to give left her feeling like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She tried to put some space between them but he drew her back with the flow of the music and she followed, all the while counting the seconds to determine how long might have been long enough.

“After our dance, what do you say we go find your father?” Roland suggested, drawing her close and putting a friendly hand against the small of her back.

“My dad?” she put a hand to his chest, pushing herself back a bit.

“You know, to tell him the good news.”

“What, you finally got that lower back problem looked at?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Roland’s charming grin faltered the moment her dry comment left her mouth but she could see him trying to work past it. He laughed while tilting his head back before he patted her back where his hand still rested against her. “I mean that we’re getting back together, Buttercup.”

Marianne’s eyes widened at the insinuation that she had forgiven him, her mouth falling open as he tried to close the distance again. His hand pushed against her and she tensed at the half-lidded gaze, knowing what was coming at the sight of those puckering lips. She prepared to push him away, her hand that was on his shoulder started balling into a fist when Roland’s hands suddenly flew off of her faster than as if he had touched a hot iron.

“Ow!” he shook out his hand, looking down at a reddening welt on his index finger.

 _That’s your cue!_ Bog-Mother hissed near her ear.

“Don’t need to tell me twice!” she quipped, pulling up her skirts and while Roland still inspected the damage, Marianne took off.

“Marianne?”

Marianne ignored the questioning call, waving a dismissing hand in his direction and forming a single-fingered salute just before she zipped out the door.

"The shoe, princess!" Bog-Mother snapped impatiently, Marianne stumbling past a couple and nearly knocking the man off his feet in an effort to get by. "The shoe!"

Outside of the ballroom, she slowed down enough to stop, bracing a hand against the wall while digging under her skirts until she found her own leg. Bending her knee, she lifted up her foot and wriggled the glass slipper off of it. Glancing down at the delicate spider silk-like glass, she almost felt bad for leaving it behind but eventually tossed it to the floor. It clinked as it struck the carpet then fell upon its side just as she hobbled back the way she had originally came.

“Did you bite him or something?” Marianne asked, fingers prodding at the flowers of her dress, trying to find out where her Fairy Bog-Mother was hiding.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he stated, appearing at her shoulder with his arms folded but even on that tiny face she could see that he had something of a smirk. Marianne threw her head back and practically cackled.

“You know what? You’re alright, Bog-Mother.” She grinned at him before limping down the steps out of the building and back into the relief of the open night air. “I almost forgive you for this fiasco. Almost.”

The Chevy was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, the back door opening for her just as she reached the bottom step. Climbing inside, she dragged the mounds of skirt with her and the door shut her in just as Bog re-appeared in the front passenger seat at his full size. Twisting a bit around as the car started to drive away from the party, Bog propped his elbow upon the seat and peered back at her. Marianne punched a few ruffles aside before crossing her arms and slumping down in the bench seat, pressing her lips together while he watched her.

“Okay—what gives? I did everything you said to, so, why am I still Barbies Gone Wild?” she indicated down at herself.

“The magic lasts until midnight,” he stated, Marianne groaning again and letting her head fall back upon the top of the seat. Turning around again, his wings twitched where they lay awkwardly on the seat. While she stared at the pearly white finish of the roof of the car, she heard genuine remorse in Bog-Mother’s voice as he muttered: “Sorry.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Marianne conceded, closing her eyes. “This whole Cinderella Contract has been practically by the book all night.”

“Yeah,” he agreed over his shoulder before he turned his attention on the buildings drifting past them as the Bel-Air continued driving itself through town. “It will all be over by midnight, I promise. Just hold out for a few more hours.”

“I’ll try. It’s kind of funny though…being all dressed up with nowhere to go.”

“Well, what else would you want to do?”

Marianne’s eyes popped open and after a moment, she slowly picked her head up.

\------------

“Bowling?” Bog-Mother asked, eyeing the building they stood in front of. Marianne leaned against the car with a little smile threatening to grow larger when she watched the Fairy Bog-Mother’s reaction to her idea.

“Sure, why not?” she asked, pushing off of the car and starting to walk towards the building. “I know a guy who works here and he won’t make too much of a fuss no matter what I show up in. Come on. You can throw a few gutter balls with me while we wait for midnight.”

When she saw that he wasn’t walking with her, she paused, twisting around to see where he had gone off to. The godparent hadn’t gone any further from the car. He was watching her and when she indicated he come along again with a gesture towards the building, he glanced down at himself. It was then that she realized what she had just said to a mythical creature. Even with the bowling alley being empty, it would still be hard to explain the appearance of him to the people who worked there. Anyone could see she was just escaping the Spring Ball, but there was no excuse for the armored stick insect with her. They probably didn’t even make shoes in his size.

“Well…” she tapped her bare foot on the pavement a moment, “You said you had one shot left on your wand, right?”

“Yes,” he summoned it and it appeared in his hands again. The glass rod looked dimmer than it had when he originally used it that evening. “Why?”

“Use it to disguise yourself.” She motioned towards him. “It still counts towards my contract because you’re doing it for me so technically, you can’t get in trouble for using it up.”

“Are you sure you want to waste it on me?” he asked, twisting the wand between his fingers. “I could try to do something about your dress instead, though I don’t know if I can.”

Even though she considered herself to be quite the whiny little bitch throughout the night, Marianne was amazed he was trying to be considerate. He was putting her first. She couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness in that moment, watching him stand there fidgeting. His claws clicked on the glass-like stick while he twisted it around. Marianne saw the living magic inside of it fluctuate with the motion and the sparks seemed to fizzle more than spew out of the end like before. It had calmed down with each cast and she guessed it was running on empty. She went back to him, standing nearly toe to toe with the creature as she placed her hands upon her hips.

“You got me into this mess, Fairy Bog-Mother. You might as well ride it out with me to the end.” Reaching out, she flicked the stem of the wand and listened to the clear ringing sound it made between his hands until he held the wand away from her touch. “Make yourself invisible, disguise yourself as a bowling pin, I don’t care, just come bowl with me!”

Raising the wand, he glanced at her then at it. He heaved a sigh and shut his eyes tight before tapping himself on the top of his leafy noggin. The sparks flared and suddenly poured out of the tip like a bucket of water being dumped over his head. He coughed and sputtered on the magic and Marianne stepped back when she saw his wings seem to drop off and disappear in bursts of magic behind him as the sparks rained down then bounced off of the asphalt and disappeared at his now—rather human-looking and clearly shoed—feet. Marianne watched the last of the bits of golden light seep into the asphalt and everything was once again dark aside from the glow of the streetlights standing over the bowling parking lot. The booted feet shuffled a moment on the dark surface before she raised her eyes and observed Bog-Mother’s disguise.

In front of her was a very tall man, thin and just as long-limbed as before but his features were more human. He had brown hair that looked like it had been finger-combed too many times with hints of grey threading themselves through the strands. Apparently Fairy Bog-Mother was getting on in age but hadn’t quite hit the realm of middle age yet. His human clothes were simple jeans and a gray shirt beneath a dark brown jacket. He looked completely…normal. Not the ethereal good-looking prince most girls expected from a magic show like that but a pretty Average Joe kind of guy.

Which, oddly enough, was okay with her? She actually preferred it.

“Good, now let’s get a game going!” she urged, grabbing at his arm and he staggered forward, walking with her towards the bowling alley.

\------------

 

As expected, when she arrived in the bowling alley, there were a few curious stares thrown her way but none of them lingered long once it was remembered that there were pins to be knocked down. Sunny, a friend of the family and her inside man in the bowling alley, put the shoe and lane rental on her long untouched tab with minimal heckling for her state of appearance. She didn’t want to tell him the details and she was more concerned about how Sunny was looking at her guardian in disguise with unguarded interest. It had been ages since she had brought a guy in on her rare bowling visits after all. No doubt he would be texting her sister about it by the end of the night.

Marianne set everything up for their game while Bog sat awkwardly on one of the seats in the row of plastic chairs boxing them into their lane. It was easier to sit down without those wings, she was sure, but he still seemed uncomfortable when he removed his boots and wriggled on the bowling shoes, frowning at the worn red and blue surface. Marianne entered her name on the roster then paused and looked at him.

“What name should I use for this?” she asked, pointing at the screen.

“Name?” he tilted his head back to look at the screen above them.

“Yeah, you enter your name so you can keep track of whose turn it is. What do you want to be called?”

“Bog,” he stated, “Just Bog.”

“Alright,” she typed it in and started up the game but still needed to get her shoes on. She went to the opposing bench and sat down, huffing when her skirts took over again. Cursing under her breath, she tried to fight her way through them to get to her feet but they stubbornly resisted. “Damn this dress!”

“Here,” Bog stood up and approached her. “Give me the shoes.”

She handed them to him and he knelt down before her. With her hands free to restrain the dress, Marianne hitched it up and eventually saw her bare foot popping out of the cloud of glittering tulle. Bog’s hand cupped beneath her heel and she felt an odd dryness in her mouth when she felt the slide of his fingers against her ankle. No one really touched her ankles anymore and the caress of skin, however casual, felt almost intimate in its rarity. He guided her foot to his knee and retrieved the loaner socks Sunny had grabbed for her out of her hidden stash behind the counter. Bog didn’t seem fazed as he pulled a sock onto her foot for her then proceeded to shoe it, tying it with practiced fingers until he patted it and she moved it aside, letting him do the same with the other. He removed the remaining glass slipper, holding it between his hands and looking down at it thoughtfully while even the glow of the fluorescent lights seemed to make the glass shimmer and shine. 

“Why does the slipper remind you of home?” Marianne asked, hardly realizing she was going to say it until that moment. Hell, she didn’t think about it at all until she had seen the distant look in his eyes. A man who stared at a shoe like that…clearly had something on his mind.

Bog blinked rapidly, setting the shoe aside and began to roll another sock onto her foot instead. “Before I had to take this job, I lived in a forest. There were…just a lot of spiders that made their webs in my home. That’s all.” He shook his head, dismissing the need to elaborate and Marianne frowned at the vague explanation. She wanted to pry but he finished shoeing her with a firm tug on the dirty laces and stood back up, carrying the glass slipper over to his boots where he set it beside them. Marianne sighed but at least he gave her something rather than tried to dismiss it like the last time she asked.

“So,” she stood up after shoving her skirts back down. “Have you ever bowled before?”

He shook his head.

“Well, if you play like I do, it’s easy. Just watch.”

Marianne heaved herself off of the bench and went to the ball rack, retrieving a purple ball of a good weight before carrying it to the lane and stepping up onto the platform. She readied herself, lining up her shot with the pins and slowly moved forward. It was no easy feat moving in the dress but she managed to walk a few steps towards the lane and send the ball down without too much of a bang when it hit the wood. Bog craned to look past her dress and watch it roll down the long stretch of polished wood. The ball slowly angled until it knocked one pin over from the right side then proceeded to drop harmlessly into the gutter and rolled out of sight.

“I suck, by the way.” She pinned on as a sort of punch line to her shot as she grinned back at him, “But it’s a good way to let off some steam.”

He watched the arm come down to sweep the fallen pin off of the run, the others having been lifted up and out of sight to make way for it. Once the arm retracted, the pins were set back down upon the ground and Marianne went to the rack, leaning over it just as her ball was returned to her and she plucked it up before it could even settle. Holding it in her hands, she went to the lane again.

“You get two tries when you have a turn.” She instructed, hoisting the ball up in front of her to line up her shot. While she carried out the rest of her turn, Bog continued to watch attentively. This time she knocked down four on the opposite side, leaving her giving him a thumbs up while laughing at her own expense. “Okay, you’re up!”

At first he seemed to hesitate from rising from his plastic seat, his hands on his knees and they rocked together a moment before he finally stood up and went to the rack. Marianne met him there and proceeded to tell him that the balls were all different weights and that he should choose whichever one felt right to him. It also helped if he could get his fingers inside of them as well. The first try with a twelve pound ball and his finger got stuck inside. Once Marianne helped him figure out how to wriggle it out, he eventually got his hands on a ball of his own and proceeded to carry it to their lane.

Marianne showed him the line where he would have to stop and roll the ball, Bog nodding through her instructions until he held the ball similar to how he had seen her do it. She went back to the monitor to get out of his way, kicking her skirts aside and folding her arms as he finally readied himself and moved forward, making his shot down the lane. The ball thunked heavily onto the wooden surface and proceeded to roll drunkenly from side to side until it slumped into the gutter and rolled slowly down the chute. Bog’s shoulders slumped a bit at the blatant lack of skill in his first try and Marianne resisted the urge to laugh at his childish reaction. Bog came back to the conveyer opening and Marianne gave him a sympathetic pat upon his back. 

“Hey, you’re in good company, Bog.” She encouraged him, resting her hand upon his shoulder and he finally looked at her with a pitiful expression. The look on his face left her nearly snickering before she fought it back and tried to be understanding. “I told you I sucked so I can’t judge and besides, this is your first time.”

His ball appeared again and he eyed it as if it had personally said something to offend him. Stepping away from her touch, he retrieved the ball and marched back to the lane, rotating the ball in his hands before jamming his fingers in and holding it up. Marianne leaned a bit around him, noticing how he was looking from the dots on the floor to the pins ahead this time. Lowering his arm and readying his roll, he walked toward the lane and rather than throwing it, he lowered his arm to the ground and smoothly rolled it down this time. The ball had no trouble rolling straight ahead this time and Marianne’s eyebrows shot up the moment he knocked the pins straight down the middle but that left him with the dreaded split laughing back at him.

“Hey, you did a lot better than the first one!” she called out as he turned around to return to his seat but this time she noticed he had a newfound vigor to his expression. It looks like he actually enjoyed it that time!

They bowled through their first game almost rapidly before going into a second run and this time, Marianne and Bog were fired up and even getting a bit competitive. It was probably laughable, seeing two adults proudly crowing over their hits even though there was not a strike across the board and yet they were egging one another on and slapping high-fives in between turns. Marianne was getting the hang of bowling in a massive dress and Bog was beginning to master the art of keeping out of the gutter but still scoring nearly as badly as she was. If anyone looked at their scores, they would almost think these two were trying to match them on purpose but, hey, stranger things have happened on this night.

Marianne was finding Bog’s company much more enjoyable without the constant nagging of the Cinderella Contract hanging over their heads. They bowled badly several turns before finding themselves at the jukebox, the pair of them craning low to see the digital screen where different artists and genres were listed. Marianne played a few classic rock hits to get them a little more riled up but what she didn’t expect was for Bog to know them and even sang along. Another mystery to this strange creature currently in human clothing. The initial surprise he even knew “I Love Rock and Roll” eventually turned into them bowling in time with the staggered beat, Marianne dancing down the short walk to the lane and giving Bog a powerful high five in sync with the strained “OW” Joan Jett cried through the speakers.

When she turned back to the lane to see what she did or did not hit, Marianne was nearly floored when she saw that she made a spare and threw her hands up in the air with a victorious cry. Elated with her best shot yet, Marianne didn’t even think about it when she jumped into Bog’s arm’s wrapping hers right around him while cheering at the ceiling. He clung to her, careful not to drop her but she could hear his dry cackle beneath her as he raised her up higher, letting her savor her shot while she clapped her hands together then gave two fists a shake that Sunny returned with two thumbs up.

Bog lowered her down and she wrapped her arms around him, coming down from her high and laughing a little breathlessly until she realized he was still holding her aloft and she was face to face with him. His grin grew hesitant the longer she stared into his face, her mind buzzing with ridiculous thoughts like “he has nice eyes” and “I kinda want to stay up here for a while”. She gave a nervous laugh at the idea and he followed her example by chuckling uneasily and finally set her down on her feet, brushing her skirts off of him where they caught on his jeans.

She didn’t hug him again.

It was Marianne’s last turn when she noticed that Bog had suddenly gone quiet. He didn’t egg her on or even whistle encouragement like he had several turns ago. Ignoring her ball she looked back at him to see what made him suddenly clam up and saw that he was staring at the monitor with a rather grave expression. She went to him, coming around the back of the screen and leaning over his shoulder to see what he was staring at and noticed that it was the clock at the top of the display.

It was 11:55.

“Hey!” she nudged him with her elbow, “Almost midnight! The contract is almost up!”

Bog winced from her elbow, his hand going to his arm with a little rub and a dry laugh but she noticed he didn’t seem to be as thrilled as she was. Marianne was relieved that she was finally going to get rid of the dress and have her old clothes back, not to mention her own hair (thank God) but for some reason, Bog looked almost sad. She arched an eyebrow at her bowling companion, touching his shoulder again and he slowly looked up at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“At midnight, the Cinderella Contract will be finished and everything will go back to how it was. You, the car,” his eyes lowered down to himself and she realized that one of the uses had been on his disguise. She suddenly realized what that meant.

“Okay, we—we need to get you out of sight before you change back!” she urged, grasping his arm and yanking him out of the chair. “Be right back, Sunny!” she shouted before he could come around the counter to question her. Bog didn’t argue as she did her best to hurry him outside, tripping on her skirts and slipping on the carpeting in her bowling shoes, ignoring the fact that they were even still wearing them as she shouldered the front door open and hastened themselves around to the side of the bowling alley and hopefully out of sight. “There, now when it hits midnight no one will see you.”

“That’s not the problem, Marianne.” He looked down at her arm still wrapped around his from pulling him along and she hastily let him go.

“What do you mean?”

“I have to go as well.”

Marianne suddenly found it hard to breathe for a moment.

“Y-You have to go?” He nodded gravely, rubbing at one of his arms where she could already see the paleness of his skin start to discolor. The disguise was beginning to wear off. “You can’t stay long enough to…finish your turn?”

Bog shook his head, looking down at his hand as his fingers darkened a bit, his nails turning black. Marianne felt warmth tickling over her skin and she looked down at herself, realizing the dress was beginning to glow softly as the magic fired up again. She put her hands to the dress as it glittered, patches of it seeming to dissolve off her skin and when she pulled one hand back, it was on her palm and dripped off like water, splattering the ground and disappearing. More dress fell away like melting snow and she could see her original pajamas beginning to peer through the patches.

“I can’t stay, Marianne.” Bog’s hands rest on her shoulders and she looked up to see that his disguise had completely faded away and he was once again her Fairy Bog-Mother but lacking the original grouchiness he possessed at his first appearance. “I have to go back to headquarters.”

“No,” she shook her head, suddenly finding it hard to let him go when she had originally wanted him gone from the beginning. “No, you can’t go yet! You have to finish your turn and eat lukewarm nachos with me at the snack bar to celebrate how lame we were!”

Her eyes darted down to herself and she was officially back in her pajamas, her head feeling lighter as her hair was finally back to normal. Marianne saw that Bog was beginning to fade, his limbs growing transparent the longer she watched him. She reached out and grabbed his shoulders while they were still solid.

“Oh, come on! I finally start to like you a little and you ditch me at a bowling alley in my pajamas?” she groaned, “At least—at least get me home!”

“You will be home when I am gone.” His hand raised and lay on top of her head. “Like I said. Everything will go back to the way it was.”

“Damn it, Bog! I don’t want it to go back to the way it was!” she shook him as hard as she could but the damn fairy creature barely even jostled. “I-I—fuck—I want you to stay!”  


It was hard to believe, but tears burned her eyes as she watched him grow more and more vague. Her hands still clung fast to his shoulders but she shut her eyes and banged her head once upon his armored chest, holding it there while she grit her teeth and fought the urge to cry at the damn curve ball that fate decided to throw her. She hated it but she finally sobbed, cursing under her breath when she couldn’t hold it in but felt a touch beneath her chin. She lifted her head to snap at him but was rendered silent when he leaned in and kissed her.

For the briefest moment, she felt warm and dry lips on hers and shut her eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening. When she opened them, however, Bog was gone and so was she, apparently. Blinking rapidly, she looked all around herself to find that she had ended up back in her house. One glance and she realized that she was in the kitchen where it all started. The fridge door was standing open but there was no damage to the cabinets, no glitter bombs splattered on the walls and practically no sign of a struggle. She looked at the open fridge and absently shut the door, only to notice something was in her hand.

The glass slipper.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely happy with where I ended things but I wanted to leave it where I could (possibly) continue the story one day.
> 
> Unfortunately, Sunny didn't get to do much here. I'm sorry my little elf friend. I have a story dedicate to you and I will try to work on it soon, I promise!
> 
> Also, yes, there is a reason Bog is a Fairy Godmother. It is hinted that he used to live in a forest and it's true. I plan on adding something to this one day that will eventually reveal how Bog ended up in this line of work but for now, all that I will say is that he's just kind of being forced to do this as payback.


End file.
